


A Sanctuary Is More Than Stone and Earth

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fairies, Fantasy, Jealousy, M/M, Magic, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-25
Updated: 2010-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-09 20:17:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/91182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="http://v-angelique.dreamwidth.org/111629.html?#cutid1">The One Behind the Curtain</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sanctuary Is More Than Stone and Earth

"Come here," Harry murmured, smiling at Orlando when he looked up from the book he was curled up with in the library, hiding out from a summer evening rainstorm. "I have something I want to show you."

Orlando smiled and marked his place, then put the book back on the shelf and followed Harry up not one but two flights of stairs, to Harry's own private loft.

"I wrote this for my own knowledge," Harry explained, bending to a small bookshelf near his bed and pulling out a thick, leatherbound book. "Too much information can be dangerous," he mused, walking back over to Orlando and smiling sadly. "Every magical race has secrets that aren't meant to be discovered. Andrew's obsession with finding them out only hurt all of you. But I think you need to see this. It will answer some of your questions, and I think help you understand yourself a little better."

Orlando met his eyes with an expression of wonder, for Harry couldn't have known how he'd been feeling in the month since Gerard left to found his House, how he'd asked himself question upon question that didn't add up. He could only murmur his thanks and take the book into his hands, examining its cover.

A Compendium of Magical Life

"I find this corner quite comfortable for reading," Harry suggested, showing Orlando to a rather unpretentious sofa underneath the eaves of one of the loft's two big windows. The space was very unassuming, though he thought privately that Harry would certainly deserve a little grandeur if he desired it. There was a large, comfortable-looking bed, an armoire, a small bathroom, the bookcase and the sofa, and an oak writing desk with a plain straight-backed chair. Orlando smiled gratefully and sat down on the sofa, listening to the rain beating against the glass. Harry went to the bed and lay down his back, stretching his wings out flat, his hands folded on his stomach. He closed his eyes, and Orlando turned his attention to the book.

The compendium, it seemed, was arranged in chronological order. The pages were filled in ink, the hand a legible, flowing script. The book also had many blank pages, after those that were filled. He started with the first few pages, but quickly grew restless, reading about creatures that were certainly fascinating but also very much extinct and unfamiliar. Instead, he flipped forward until he approached the modern age, first finding the entry for immortals.

**Immortals.** First born, 1032 A.D. Last born, 1693 A.D. Immortals are a powerful race, very difficult to kill, and thus in number quite the same as they existed in the 17th century. Their numbers are moderate, births concentrated heavily on the European continent. Many were knights or soldiers, some of royal blood, and they are in almost all cases graceful, discerning, and endowed with excellent judgment. They are superior fighters, and often slow to make friends, though fiercely loyal. Their principal weakness is a quick temper and a certain stubbornness.

Orlando smiled, for he was thinking of Sean, and it was true that he could be quite stubborn at times. He also thought of the duel between Sean and Karl, and he laughed softly, scanning the rest of the entry, which told of prominent immortals, included a chart with numbers and locations, and discussed their distinguishing characteristics in greater detail. When he came to the end of the entry, he went back to turning the pages until he fell on another entry of interest.

**Sorcerers.** First born, 1106 A.D. Last born, 1825 A.D. Though sorcerers were born through a long span of history, there are very few, and they exist in all corners of the world, so that their small number is spread quite thin. They are often solitary, though some few treasure company. Their abilities vary, and increase with age. They are immortal, but can be killed. Thus, many sorcerers are chiefly preoccupied with protection, whether for themselves or for others, and devote many hours to learning spells for that purpose, as well as for healing. Sorcery is an art that can be learned, from master to apprentice, but sorcerers also have innate abilities, and can turn inward to increase their mastery. They are calm and methodical, and therefore indispensable in a crisis.

**Artistes.** First born, 1245 A.D. Last born, 1762 A.D. Artistes are empaths, and their number is not inconsiderable. There are perhaps twenty thousand now in the world, though it is impossible to judge perfectly for artistes sometimes become drawn into themselves and leave the world, though they do not die. This unfortunate affliction comes from great pain, which may be impossible to release, especially when very personal. Artistes form strong emotional bonds, and have a number of unique abilities. They can, for example, draw pain from another human being and project it artistically so that it resides neither with the subject or with the artiste. They can also paint memories, and in rare cases will project a feeling from an individual they have never touched, or even met. Usually, the transfer of emotion occurs through touch, but artistes are also intensely aware of emotions in the close vicinity. Their tears have unique healing powers.

Orlando hardly noticed the time passing as he read through entries on Elves and nymphs and merpeople, shapeshifters and changelings and the winged. His eyes narrowed when he reached the entry on vampires and he read with trembling fingers, afraid of what he might discover.

**Vampires.** First born, 1782. Last born, 1850. Vampires appeared in great numbers, over a short period of time. They are immortal, but they have always been a hunted race. The mentality of a vampire varies—in some, a great paranoia and fear of the outside world develops, while others are able to move more easily through it. Vampire hunts in the 19th and 20th centuries killed many vampires, for they will perish if unable to find human blood. They are very strong and have highly developed senses, but they are weaker than many of the magical races. Due in part to race and in part to history, they tend to trust only their own kind, though the more paranoid vampires tend also to gather others to them as companions, in order to ensure a food supply and avoid travel into the outside world. The more reclusive vampires are thus cut off from society and may retain archaic fashions and customs. In earlier years, they used a ritual to grant mortal companions immortality, but this ritual did not strengthen the mortals beyond halting the aging process, and the more vengeful hunters slaughtered companions for spite, so that the practice is now rare. When the ritual is used, the bond between mortal and vampire is extremely strong, and the experience of such a death can be an almost unbearable pain. Vampires often are insecure, very particular, and prone to rapidly changing moods.

Orlando frowned, reading through the entire entry three times—details of the vampire hunts, profiles of some of the more prominent vampires, the biological explanation of the feed. He felt, for the first time since the attack on Elijah, some sympathy for Andrew. He hadn't known the history of the vampire hunts, nor the logic behind the reclusiveness. He no longer cared for the vampire, but he ached for who Andrew might have been. And he wondered about Gerard, about how much of these same tendencies lurked beneath the surface in his blood. He frowned, reading the first paragraph once more and then turning the pages until he found the entry on fairies.

**Fairies**. First born, 1891. Fairies are a large mortal race, inhabiting all parts of the planet, though they tend to prefer rural areas to cities. A fairy can be born of any race, though fairies rarely bear non-fairy children. Their love of nature is akin to that of the Elves and nymphs previously mentioned, but they differ greatly from those races in ways not immediately apparent to the observer. Their most obvious abilities are a natural grace that makes the climbing of trees quite popular, the creation of fairy lights, the creation and tending of magical gardens, and the production of a substance known as fairy dust, the colour of which varies according to the fairy's mood and which causes reciprocal effects when touched. Fairies often consider themselves a very plain and uninteresting race, ranking themselves among the lesser and most common, but fairies can in fact be most surprising. Their chief gift, and one unknown or unappreciated by almost all of the fairies themselves, is an enormous capacity to love, surpassing all other races. All other abilities stem from this trait, which manifests itself in a kindness towards nature, a willingness to forgive nearly all sins, and a deep closeness with friends.

Orlando frowned, reading the description several times over, and then put the book down, walking over to Harry's bed and gently touching his arm. Harry opened his eyes, and did not shift his position, but smiled softly up at Orlando.

"The part on fairies," Orlando murmured. "You got it wrong."

Harry laughed and sat up, taking Orlando's hands in his own. "Did I?"

"Well. Maybe not. Maybe other fairies are like what you say." Orlando sighed. "You know, you're the one who made me believe that I'm not broken after all, that I really am a fairy, a whole fairy. But now I'm not so sure."

"Orlando," Harry said seriously, looking up at him with kind eyes. "You're the most fairy-like fairy I know, and the description fits you to a T."

"No it doesn't. If I were so good at loving, so good at forgiving, I wouldn't have left. I wouldn't have abandoned Andrew."

Harry shook his head. "Perhaps you will forgive him in time. Perhaps you already have. But staying with him wouldn't be love. In fact it would be a most unfairylike thing to do."

Orlando frowned. "Why?"

"You left because something, somewhere inside you, held a glimmer of love for _yourself_, Orlando. You knew that you had to leave or that true self would never blossom. A fairy could hardly survive without that love."

"Oh," Orlando said quietly, looking down at their hands.

"Would you like to know an interesting thing? Of all the races I've known over the years, all that I've written on, the two absolutely most polar opposites are vampires and fairies. It doesn't surprise me one little bit that it was a couple of fairies who took down a deranged vampire's House in the end. It makes perfect sense. Those names he called you, to taunt you, do you know why he used those?"

"Because it's true," Orlando whispered. "Harry, I do… like to have sex. With different men. Elijah and I always were going out, and partying, and…"

"As well you should," Harry interrupted, smiling. "Anyone who tries to contain a fairy's love, whether sexual passion or any other aspect, is heartless and cruel. He used those names because he was jealous. Because he could never have your charm, your beauty, your love for other people, your ability to see the good side in everyone and to connect to others. He had to use fear, intimidation, the mystery of his reputation to lure people in. He didn't want you to have relationships with others because he couldn't. He wanted to control you, to put your fire out, because it would give him a sense of power. And you didn't let him. He tried to make you feel shame and hurt and embarrassment because you were doing exactly what you naturally _should_ be doing, what you're best at doing. Loving other people."

Orlando frowned. "There's something else."

"Yes?"

"What about my dust? I can garden now, I'm learning to climb, but… I still can't control my dust."

Harry smiled. "That's because you _feel_ your emotions, Orlando. When you were cramped up in that House, when they were slowly draining the life out of you, the dust stopped, didn't it? You didn't feel spontaneous emotion anymore. The first fairies, when they were born, they didn't control their dust. That was something they learned, over time, as they began to live with other races, as they began to be afraid or embarrassed. Your dust is one of my favourite things about you. It's a remarkable gift."

"Oh," Orlando said quietly, blushing and letting his face relax into a smile. He had certainly never thought of it that way before.

"You don't have to understand everything," Harry said. "I only wanted you to understand something your mother would have wanted you to know."

"What's that?" Orlando whispered, biting his lip.

Harry grinned, touching Orlando's cheek. "That fairies can start a revolution."

~*~

"Why the fretty face?" Viggo asked, grinning up at Orlando as he paced back in forth in Gerard's living room. Viggo, as usual, was curled up on the floor at Sean's feet, demanding to be petted, and Orlando was a nervous wreck.

"I shouldn't have given them to him."

"Given what to whom?"

"My poems to Harry."

"You write poetry?"

"Horrible, juvenile, completely insignificant poetry that I gave to a person who is as old as the _entire world_. Why on earth would he be impressed? I'm an idiot."

Sean grinned. "I don't know. I think he's pretty impressed by you."

"What are you talking about?"

"He asked you, personally, to stay. I note that you haven't left yet. We thought you'd be back by now, not just visiting for the weekend."

Orlando frowned. "Well, I will be eventually. Do you think he wants me to leave?"

"No. That being my _point_. I think Harry values your friendship very deeply, silly. I think he likes having you around, and I think you like being there. How's the garden, by the way?"

"Well, even magical flowers don't bloom in September. A lot of the plants are sleeping."

Sean smiled. "Do you still spend most of your time out there?"

"Yes. I can still talk to them while they're sleeping," Orlando said sheepishly. "And there are vegetables now, and herbs."

"Magical vegetables?" Viggo asked curiously.

"Some of them. Some are just particularly tasty tomatoes."

Viggo laughed. "Oh, how I love you, silly boy."

Orlando grinned and plopped down on the carpet next to him. "I love what you all have done with the house. It's so much more… alive, really. I mean, I suppose things are a little more intentionally classy than Harry's house, but I don't feel like I'm staying somewhere that hasn't changed in a hundred years."

"No," Sean agreed. "This is much better. We looked at some of those Victorians in the city, but even the big ones are so close to neighbours. We don't want to isolate ourselves completely, but we need space, too. Viggo can run in the woods, and there's a great view of the bay, and no-one feels hemmed in."

"You have to try sleeping under the stars sometime," Viggo added dreamily.

"What he doesn't mention," Sean teased, "is that in cheetah form he's his own personal space heater, and if you did it yourself you'd freeze to death."

"He could curl up with me!" Viggo argued. "I'm very friendly and cuddly when it's naptime, you know."

Sean laughed. "You do have a point. I'll just let Orlando decide whether he wants to risk sleeping with three-inch claws 'playfully' resting on his chest."

~*~

"What are you doing?" Marton asked, coming up to Orlando as he sat in the garden with his tongue half out of the corner of his mouth, braiding together some sturdy vines that had popped up.

"Weaving a hammock!" Orlando replied with a grin. He'd just come back from San Francisco the day before, and the idea had occurred to him on the plane.

"But we have a hammock," Marton pointed out, scratching his head.

Orlando giggled and shook his head. "Not a fairy-hammock."

"Fairies make hammocks?"

"This one does," Orlando replied. "Look how strong these vines are." Marton tugged and nodded, looking impressed.

"Your garden's quickly becoming legendary."

Orlando blushed. "It's Harry's garden, really. I just live here."

Marton smiled and shook his head. "Do you want some help?"

"Sure," Orlando agreed, and Marton plopped down next to him in the grass, following Orlando's method of weave-and-knot. "Where's it going to go?"

"In the back of my tree," Orlando replied. "So I can see the city, but still feel safe."

Marton smiled. "Do cities make you feel unsafe?"

Orlando shrugged. "Maybe a little. I spent so much time in a city, but I feel better up here in the hills. You know?"

Marton nodded. "I do. Elves aren't urban creatures, either. New Zealand was even better."

Orlando smiled. "I'd like to go sometime. Is it in the West?"

Marton nodded. "Australia is the edge of Harry's jurisdiction. Australia, New Zealand, and the Pacific Islands are under his control, plus North America and Japan. China, Russia, the Middle East, and South Asia are all part of the East, and then South America and Africa are the South. The North is smaller, only the European continent, Iceland, Greenland, and a couple of islands."

"So Andrew can't come to the United States at all?"

"No."

"That's good. Elijah thinks I should see New York sometime. He says it's cooler than London."

Marton laughed. "I wouldn't know. Did you have fun this weekend?"

"Oh, it was fabulous. I went around the Castro with Dominic and Elijah and we found all the cool hip queer spots. I think there are more magical people in LA, but no one called us names or anything. The boys at one club were totally checking us out."

Marton laughed and kissed his cheek. "You're delightful."

Orlando blushed and shook his head. "I just like to have a good time."

"Well, I'm glad that you did," Marton replied, smiling and going back to the weaving.

~*~

"Orli," Karl exclaimed with his hands on his hips. "You've been working on that thing for ten hours, with only a sandwich and a bottle of water for sustenance. It's going to get cold soon. Come in for supper."

Orlando grinned and shook his head. "Look! I'm finished. Being out here is sustaining enough, anyway. Help me hang it."

Karl sighed in defeat and did as he was told, lifting one end of the sturdy yet surprisingly soft vine hammock and helping Orlando carry it to the tree. Orlando went up first, swinging himself up into the third level of branches facing away from the property, and Karl tossed the hammock up, following in a rather lumbering fashion. "If I fall on my head, it is entirely your fault."

Orlando giggled and started to tie a knot with the thick rope of vine he'd left hanging loose, but quite to his amazement it wrapped itself around the thick branch of its own accord, melding with the trunk so that it was if the tree had sprouted the hammock, rather than Orlando's hard work.

"It wants you to let go," he said, smiling at Karl. "Go on."

Sceptically, Karl released the end he was holding, and the hammock fastened itself quite securely between the two branches.

"Whee!" Orlando exclaimed, jumping into the hammock, which supported his weight quite easily, swinging gently. "Oh, it's perfect! I'll never come down."

Karl sighed. "Orli. Supper."

"Bring it to me here? Pleeeease?"

Karl rolled his eyes, clinging tightly to the trunk like an oversized monkey. "I'll have Marton do it. No way I'm trying to climb up here with a tray. And I'm sending him with a blanket, too."

Orlando just giggled again and wiggled his fingers through the holes of the hammock at Karl as he lowered himself to the ground.

~*~

Unfortunately for Orlando, the air quickly grew cooler, even in Southern California, as the autumn drew to a close, and though magically soft and possessing the strange healing properties of all Orlando's plants, the hammock wasn't exactly magically warming. He spent an hour or two in the sunniest part of the afternoon outdoors, wearing a bright yellow hoodie that Elijah had sent, but in the mornings he stayed inside, helping with breakfast and then reading or writing poetry. Without being asked, Harry had purchased a desk for Orlando's bedroom, and he often sat there, under the window, with the sunlight pouring in. And then, of course, the turn in the weather allowed for his chess matches with Karl to pick back up again.

"Check."

"Where?" Orlando growled in frustration, watching as Karl smiled and slowly traced his finger from the black rook through the clear path to the white king. Orlando grumbled and scooted the king over one square with his fingertip.

"Remember, you have to think ahead. If you're playing with a beginner, you only have to look ahead one step, and assume that they'll automatically try to capture your piece and avoid being captured. But I don't think that way. My goal is to capture your King, which means I have to trap him. Look at all of my pieces."

Orlando sighed and tried to follow Karl's advice as Karl put him in check again. He considered each of the possible moves, and shifted his bishop into a protective position, only to get trounced in three more moves.

"Good game," Karl said, leaning over the board and kissing Orlando's forehead with a smile. "Marton wanted to make bread today. Would you like to help?"

"Yeah, okay," Orlando agreed, smiling and standing up, stretching his arms over his head. He found Marton in the library, reading Proust.

"Hello. Did you two have a good game?"

Orlando shrugged. "I lost."

"Of course you did," Marton said, smiling and standing up, swinging one arm around Orlando's shoulders and giving him a squeeze. "You shouldn't focus on winning. Focus on how many moves before you lose. Try to make it bigger each time."

Orlando smiled at Marton's as-usual impeccable logic and nodded. "All right. Karl said you're making bread today. Can I help?"

"Certainly," Marton agreed. "It's just about ready to bake, you can get it ready for me."

"Okay," Orlando agreed, walking with him to the kitchen. Craig was sitting at the table, his eyes closed and mumbling, apparently trying to learn some new bit of magic, and ignored them.

"Start by flouring the board," Marton instructed Orlando, putting a big cedar plank on top of the counter. "Most important thing when working with bread dough is to use plenty of flour, or it'll stick to everything."

Orlando nodded and did as he was told, sticking his hand in the mason jar and sprinkling it on the board, then rubbing a bit with his hands.

"That's good. Get your hands nice and floury too," Marton said, lifting the damp cloth off the top of the bowl and letting a yeasty smell drift into the air. "Now you can lift the dough out and put it on the board. See how pillowy it is now?"

"Yes. What does that mean?"

"It means that it's been rising. First you make the dough and knead it, then you let it rise. It's twice as big now as it was a couple of hours ago."

"Oh. Now what do I do?"

"Punch the hell out of it," Marton replied, grinning.

"Really?"

"Yep. You have to punch all the air holes out. Go on."

Orlando looked at the dough sceptically, then kind of smacked at it. Marton laughed and shook his head. "I'm serious. Make a fist. Punch a few times."

Orlando frowned and did so, though his punch wasn't particularly effective. Marton took pity on him and did the rest of the punching himself, kissing Orlando's cheek.

"There you are. Divide it in two now, and put it in these pans," Marton said, holding the loaf pans for Orlando to put the dough in. "Now we bake. Be glad I didn't make you knead."

Orlando giggled. "I don't work out much."

"No," Marton agreed, smiling as he pushed the buttons on the oven. "Aside from climbing trees. Come on, we'll have a cuddle while we wait for the oven."

Orlando grinned and followed him, and Craig muttered on.

~*~

Sometimes, when Orlando was feeling introspective, he'd go down into the city, often with Karl and Craig, who were better suited to urban environments than the others. There was a particular café that Orlando loved, magically owned and operated, that provided a safe and comfortable space for all magical creatures, but particularly for the magical gay boys wandering around West Hollywood before he bars opened. The space was full of big comfy couches and chairs, as well as floor cushions and big tropical plants and even a pool in one corner for merpeople. The café had normal food and coffee, but also specialized in magical edibles, everything from magical tisanes to relaxant brownies and aphrodisiac truffles. He'd often curl up in his favourite spot in the window with a big mug of tea in his hands and one of Harry's books open in his lap, and if the other two were there they'd curl up next to him and people-watch. Occasionally, a boy would come over and flirt with Orlando, and Orlando would smile and return the favor, perhaps agree to meet at a club that night, but the afternoons were private time, sacred, and they helped the winter days pass more quickly. He was grateful for that.

~*~

For his birthday, Harry gave Orlando a beautiful slender bracelet set with glittering stones, one for every fairy colour but silver. He was inordinately touched, but Harry only kissed him softly and squeezed the back of his neck and said he was glad that Orlando had lived another year in health and happiness. Then he retreated to his loft, and the others showered him with more presents—windchimes for his tree, a big colourful kite to fly when the springtime returned, an anthology of fairy literature, crazy t-shirts with silly slogans, a mobile to hang in his bedroom. The last gift, before he left for San Francisco to celebrate with Elijah, was from Dave—a painting of Orlando, lying in the clover with a brilliant smile on his face and a pool of yellow dust by each hand. In the painting, he seemed to glow, not the self he saw in the mirror at all but a greater self, otherworldly. He looked like someone important.

"I can't paint from memory, or just by looking," Dave explained softly. "Not with my fingers, like this… it has to come from somewhere. I wanted you to have a self-portrait that would make you feel the confidence that you've started to find in yourself."

"Oh," Orlando said quietly, carefully laying it on his bed. "It's beautiful. How did you do it, though?"

Dave smiled. "Simple. I asked Harry to picture you."

Orlando bit his lip, and he stared at that portrait for a long time.

~*~

By Orlando's birthday, the House had already celebrated Elijah's, but as was their tradition they planned out a celebration together, and everyone had presents for Orlando. His favourite was from Viggo, a little wooden flute that he found, closing his eyes, he already knew how to play. It was carved from a fairy-tree, Viggo explained, very humanely, so that the tree itself wouldn't be harmed. Orlando smiled and kissed him and spent the rest of the afternoon playing little melodies until Elijah begged him to stop.

They started with hot cocoa at a little place in the Castro, where they flirted with all the pretty boys and said it was their birthday. Dominic was with them, and he only laughed and teased Elijah, kissing him intermittently but not so often as to make Orlando feel like a third wheel. They walked around, just a little, but even in California it was cold in January, so they quickly returned indoors, looking around a record shop and a porn shop and then going to dinner at a tapas place where Dominic politely ordered no meat, even though Elijah said he could, and they all shared, licking each other's fingers and giggling. Their waiter was a cute Venezuelan nymph, and they tipped him generously and flirted outrageously, though he didn't seem to mind. After dinner they went to a bigger, flashier nightclub than they had the last time Orlando had been there, with two stories and lots of dancing, as well as lounges and back rooms.

"We're going to pick you out someone cute," Elijah promised, tugging Orlando through the crowd by his wrist as he sipped a cocktail with the other hand. "What are you looking for tonight? Normals, fairies, cute lanky Elves?"

Orlando laughed. "I don't know. I hadn't much thought about it."

"Hey now, where's the Orlando we know and love?" Elijah teased as they found a spot on the floor, dancing in a loose little triangle. "If this were London you'd be on your sixth or seventh dance and know exactly what was on the menu by now," he pointed out in Orlando's ear.

Orlando laughed and shrugged. "I suppose I've changed."

Elijah smiled and held a relaxant up to his lips, lighting the joint before Orlando could protest. Though tobacco was banned now in California, you could still smoke relaxants inside, the sweet smoke being considerably more pleasant. Orlando sighed and inhaled, letting Elijah lean and press against him a little as they danced, and then Dominic. After a moment, an unfamiliar pair of arms slipped round his waist and he leaned back against a broad chest, looking back and up into the eyes of a dark and clearly well-built mortal.

"Hello," he murmured loopily, grinning as Elijah took the joint out of his hand. "What's your name?"

The man laughed and brushed their lips together. "Reza, pleased to meet you."

"Yeah," Orlando agreed. "Me too."

"What's your name, beautiful?" Reza asked, his thumbs resting on Orlando's belt as they swayed to the music, Elijah and Dominic staying nearby though paying more attention to each other, Elijah's arms looped around Dominic's neck and his face pressed against it.

"Oh," Orlando said, giggling. "It's Orlando."

"Mm. You smell sweet, Orlando."

Orlando giggled again and leaned back against him. "Yay."

Reza laughed and they danced for a song, which was quite nice, but then he slipped off, apologetically pointing out his boyfriend, and Orlando sighed and rejoined his friends. Another couple of songs later, another man cut in, and Orlando smiled as he draped his arms around the man's neck, grinning up at him.

"Hi. What's your name?"

"Jeff," the man said. He was an inch or two shorter than Orlando, and the kind of surfer blonde that was common in LA for normals.

"Hi, Jeff. My name's Orlando. I'm a fairy," he said, giggling to himself.

"Are you?" Jeff asking, smirking. "I've never fucked a fairy before."

Orlando frowned. "We're not fucking, silly, we're dancing."

"I'm only skipping ahead a little."

"I dunno," Orlando mumbled. "I'm not sure I wanna."

"Oh c'mon. You're stoned enough, pretty," Jeff murmured, kissing his neck. "Don't you like fucking?"

"Yeah, but I dunno if I wanna with you," Orlando mumbled, feeling as stoned as Jeff said he was.

Jeff snorted and nodded at a nearby staircase. "Come on. Are fairies allowed upstairs? I'll get us a VIP room, it'll be like nothing you've ever had."

Orlando frowned again, but apparently Dominic had been listening in, and he broke away from Elijah for a moment to give Jeff the evil eye.

"Hey, fuck off now. Haven't you ever heard of INDA?"

"What? Who the fuck are you?"

"It's called MCPA here, love," Elijah explained gently to Dominic. "Magical Creatures Protection Act. And he's my boyfriend, so do as he says and fuck off. We can go anywhere you can, and Orli's not impressed by some little VIP lounge. He's had way better."

"Oh, go to hell," Jeff spat, his arms tightening around Orlando's waist. Orlando felt a jolt of fear, and then Jeff jumped away as if he'd been burned, clutching the back of his neck. "What the fuck? You fucking cunt!"

"You're not very nice," Orlando mumbled, stepping into Elijah's side, grateful for Elijah's hand rubbing comfortingly on his lower back.

"And you're a stupid fucking slut," Jeff growled, still clutching his neck. Orlando frowned in confusion, looking at Jeff's neck and then down at his hand. The bracelet on his wrist, Harry's bracelet, seemed to be glowing faintly. "A stupid fucking slut with a not-so-common name. Don't think I can't find out where you live, _Orlando_."

Orlando shivered, but Dominic got right up in the guy's face, even though he was smaller and shorter. "Try it, and I will sic a vampire _and_ an immortal on your arse so fast you won't be able to say mercy," he warned. Jeff snarled a few unpleasant words but finally fucked off, and Orlando breathed a sigh of relief, shivering as he wrapped his arms around Elijah.

"Lijah," he mumbled. "I don'wanna fuck anybody. I wanna go home where it's safe."

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry. The relaxant was a bad idea, c'mon, we're going to go wait over here and Viggo's gonna come get us, okay?" Elijah said, nodding at Dominic who disappeared, evidently back to the house. Orlando sighed and snuggled against him as they walked, feeling tired and drugged and sad, because he hadn't expected harassment in a place like this. Ten minutes later, Viggo showed up in animal form and they both clung on to his back, Orlando in front and Elijah pinning him in place just in case. Soon they were back at the house, where a worried-looking Sean was waiting for them. Wordlessly, Orlando walked into his arms, pressing his cheek again Sean's chest.

"Someone was mean to me," Orlando mumbled. "Because I'm a fairy."

"Oh, love, I know, but you're okay. You're safe," Sean murmured, leading him to sit down and holding him protectively against his chest.

"He called me a slut," Orlando mumbled. "I _hate_ that word."

"You know it's not true, though?"

Orlando sighed. "Harry says it's just because I love everybody. He says it's good. But everyone except you and Harry and fairies think it's bad."

"Aw, but who're you going to listen to, huh? I think Harry and me and the fairies are a very select and intelligent bunch," Sean said, and Orlando giggled in spite of himself. "Ah, there we are. The Orli I know and love."

Orlando grinned, still feeling the effects of the drug, and kissed his lips. "I love you, too!"

"Is that right?" Sean smiled. "Do you want to go to sleep now, or would you just like to cuddle, or would you rather…?" He trailed off, giving Orlando's belly a little rub under his shirt, and Orlando giggled again.

"Yeah," he murmured. "Nice, safe sex. Safe with you and Vig. Where's Vig?" he mumbled, groping around behind him with his hand.

"Right here," Viggo replied, sitting behind him on the couch. "Say g'night to Elijah."

"Oh. Night, night, Elijah. You go have nice birthday sex too, kay?"

Elijah laughed and bent down to kiss him. "I will. Love you."

"Love you, too," Orlando replied, smiling and waving goodbye as he and Dominic went to their room. "Mm, I'm so relaaaaxed," he declared, grinning at Sean.

"Did you have a relax_ant_ by chance?"

"Maaaaybe."

"Did you have alcohol with it?" Viggo asked, nibbling on the back of his neck.

"Mmmmmm. Maaaaybe."

"That'll do it, then," Sean said, smiling and leaning forward to kiss him. "You just lie back against Vig, lovely, and let me take care of you."

"Mm, all right," Orlando agreed, tilting his head back and grinning at Viggo. "You are _so_ cute."

Viggo laughed. "Am I?"

"Yep. You and Sean. And sexy and hot."

"Why thank you," Viggo replied, stroking his stomach as Sean got his jeans down and pulled his cock out.

"Ooh!"

Sean laughed and bent down, sucking it into his mouth.

"Ohh," Orlando moaned. "Oh, Vig, look, Sean's…. ohh…. Sean's sucking my cock."

"So I see," Viggo murmured, nibbling at his ear.

"I didn't… know he _did_ that," Orlando sighed, sprawling bonelessly. "Oh, he's good."

"He does sometimes," Viggo agreed, smiling and stroking Orlando's arms. "We don't have to please anyone other than ourselves anymore," he said softly. "Sex is different."

"Even for you?" Orlando mumbled, confused. "But you got to have sex with the person you wanted."

Viggo smiled and kissed him gently. "I did. But not every _way_ I wanted, any time I wanted. This is nice now. I have you to thank."

"Oh," Orlando whispered, moaning as Sean let it slip down his throat. "Oh, you're welcome."

Viggo grinned and stroked his chest. "Mm. And so are you."

~*~

"Harry? Can I talk with you a minute?"

"Of course, Orlando," Harry agreed, smiling broadly and patting the sofa next to him. "Have a seat."

"I've just been wondering about something," Orlando explained as he sat down, tucking his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them. "You know the bracelet you gave me?"

"I do," Harry agreed, smiling and fingering it where it rested loosely on Orlando's wrist.

Orlando smiled and blushed a little. "Right, well. When I was in San Francisco, we went to a dance club."

"Did you have a good time?"

"Well yes, thank you, at first. But something happened."

Harry frowned. "I gather it wasn't a good thing, if you're asking me questions about this bracelet."

"No, it was, um, this bloke, who was dancing with me. He wanted to… you know, to fuck," Orlando explained, blushing heavily. "But we hadn't been dancing for long and I'd had some relaxant of Elijah's and I was feeling kind of dopey and a little uncomfortable with him so I said no. He was some anti-magic arsehole, thought he was doing me a favour because he wanted to sleep with me. Anyway, he scared the shit out of me, but suddenly he shoved me away like I'd burnt him, and I noticed that he was grabbing his neck, where my wrist was when we were dancing."

Harry smiled. "Smart fairy," he teased, leaning in and kissing Orlando's temple. "Protection charm, courtesy of Ian. I asked him to work it so that it helps you when you're afraid. It's a rather intelligent piece of jewellery."

"Oh," Orlando said softly. "Well, thank you. It came in a lot of handy."

"I'm glad. I don't like knowing that you're in danger."

Orlando frowned. "Then why… why would you let me go to San Francisco? For that matter, why would Gerard let us all go out without someone stronger?"

Harry smiled and gently stroked his cheek. "Because not all heads of Houses are like Andrew. It doesn't make you any safer to keep you locked in a box. I think you started to learn how dangerous that can be."

Orlando frowned and instinctively snuggled closer. Harry lifted his arm and let Orlando slide under it, his head on Harry's chest. Harry's wing folded to embrace him and he closed his eyes, feeling utterly safe.

~*~

Another month passed, and another, and still Harry didn't ask Orlando to leave, nor did Orlando make that request. He went to Gerard's again, but only for a visit, and when he returned, spring had begun in southern California. Once again he spent almost all his time out of doors, and much of it in his hammock. Sometimes Karl or Marton would join him, or occasionally Harry. He wrote his poetry and played his flute and tended the garden, feeling at almost all times safe and happy. To his delight, butterflies decided they liked his flowers, and they filled the garden in all their brilliant colours. At night the air shone with fairy lights, magically coming back to life when the sun went down. Craig and Dave started putting tea out on the patio, and Orlando was proud to share his garden with the whole House. Dave even taught him how to sculpt – for despite the limitations on his ability to create magical art without someone else's emotions to draw from, he wasn't a bad artist in the normal sense of the word. Together they started planning a garden sculpture, against the hill's face at the tree line. They made big colourful balls and spirals, and Dave even took some inspiration from Orlando's favourite tree, pressing his hands to its trunk as if it were a human being and using the tree's own memories to sculpt a strong, shimmering base for the sculpture. It was never quite possible to tell its exact colour, but instead it was all colours, like the rainbow, and it glowed and was warm like a living thing. Since it was getting too hot to bake bread, Marton and Orlando made ice cream together instead, churning it on the patio in an old fashioned metal bucket. And as summer began, Orlando confessed that he had never seen the ocean.

"How is that?" Harry asked, frowning. "You had to get here somehow."

Orlando laughed and twirled pasta around his fork, taking a bite and frowning as half of it slipped back out of his mouth again. Karl and Craig politely hid their laughter behind their hands. "I meant up close. It's not the same out of the airplane window at night."

"Oh. Still, that's hard to believe. You didn't go to the beach in San Francisco?"

"The bay, sure, but that's not the same. It's not like putting your feet in the water and knowing that you're connected by the same water to another continent thousands of miles away," Orlando explained with a dreamy smile.

Harry smiled in return and nodded. "All right. Tonight, we'll go to the ocean."

~*~

And so they did, but not, as Orlando expected, by car.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked Harry, frowning as they stood side-by-side on the balcony railing. Orlando's balance had certainly improved, and this much didn't phase him, but he wasn't sure about the rest of the plan.

"I'm positive," Harry replied with a steady smile. "I won't let go."

"All right," Orlando agreed. "Whenever you're ready, I suppose."

"On the count of three. One, two…"

Orlando inhaled sharply, and together with Harry he jumped, Harry's other arm coming around his chest immediately to join the first and his legs holding Orlando's as well. They dropped for a second before the power of Harry's beating wings brought them aloft, and Orlando very reluctantly started to breathe again.

"Jesus," he whispered as they gained height and soared out over the valley, heading south and west towards Santa Monica. Harry chuckled and Orlando felt the movements of Harry's chest against his back, his hands gripping Harry's strong arms for dear life. His first thought was that it was very strange for the rest of their bodies to now be dead weight, rather useless up in the sky. Arms and legs were pointless for flight, after all. Then he thought of Andrew's descent from way up here and he shivered, though he trusted Harry not to let him fall.

"Relax, Orlando," Harry murmured in his ear. "I'm very, very strong."

Orlando smiled at that, and at Harry's guessing his thoughts. "I gathered that, big guy," he teased, and to his delight Harry didn't call him out for flirting, or let any awkwardness fall between them, but gave as good as he got.

"Mm, I'm glad to hear you've noticed," Harry purred, and Orlando giggled.

"I have."

Harry didn't respond to that but pressed his lips gently, once, to Orlando's neck. He shivered again, but this time it wasn't silver dust that he let sparkle into the wind but rather red. Harry either didn't notice or simply didn't mention it, and Orlando was glad of that.

The air changed when they neared the ocean, the yellow lights below thinning out. Harry didn't steer them towards the crowded beaches of Santa Monica proper, but somewhere else, a small deserted patch of sand that was backed by woods. They descended gradually, until they were nearly skimming the treetops, and then Harry murmured again in Orlando's ear.

"You can swim?"

Orlando nodded. "Yeah."

Orlando imagined rather than saw Harry's grin as he missed the beach by just a little and instead turned towards the water, dropping Orlando from a height of several feet into the ocean. He shrieked, but held his breath in time and came up bobbing in the waves, looking up at Harry indignantly as he swooped in slow circles over Orlando's head.

"You're evil! I'm wearing _clothes_!"

"They'll dry," Harry called. "Give me your hands."

Sceptically, Orlando reached up, then squealed as Harry caught them and towed Orlando in to shore, his legs trailing behind in the water. "All right, let go, let go!" he called when he could touch the bottom, and Harry did so, landing gracefully on the beach and grinning at Orlando with his feet only ankle deep.

"You are _so_ evil," Orlando repeated, trudging in to meet him.

"Oh, but you're so cute with your screaming and squealing and flailing," Harry argued, catching Orlando's face in his hands when he came close enough and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Smiling to himself, Orlando flung his arms around Harry's neck, giving him a big wet hug. Harry laughed and stumbled backwards a few steps as Orlando jumped on him, wrapping his legs with his sodden trousers around Harry's waist and shaking his wet hair.

"Serves you right," Orlando declared, giggling as he untangled himself. Harry smiled and gently kissed him again, on the lips this time, and took his hand.

"Look," he murmured. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Orlando turned his eyes away from Harry and looked out over the water, where the moon was hanging low and full in the distance. "Yeah," he whispered. "It is."

Bending down, Harry scooped some water into his hands and lifted it, trickling the water over Orlando's head and letting it run down his face, then kissing his salty lips once more.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, meeting Orlando's eyes, and a sigh escaped Orlando's lips as Harry grasped his arms and held him steady.

"So are you," Orlando murmured, and the angel answered him with a soft, pleased smile.

~*~

As summer wore on it only grew hotter, and though the magical garden was perfectly happy, Orlando himself was in constant need of watering. Sometimes he lay in the clover or in his hammock, where there was shade, but he spent a lot of time indoors as well, in the less natural but altogether necessary cool of the air conditioned environment. Whenever he was outside he went about nearly naked, as there were no other houses around, and he was comfortable enough in shorts. His skin turned bronze in the sunlight and Karl teased him relentlessly about becoming a California beach hunk.

In fact, he and Harry went to the beach often, sometimes four or five nights a week, though never in the daytime and never anywhere crowded. He craved that special time with the master of the House, when they would sometimes joke and play, but often be silent and serious as well, taking pleasure in one another's company. Though Elijah kept asking when he was coming home, he privately stopped thinking of Gerard's House that way and hoped Harry wouldn't ask him to leave. The limbo of his situation didn't even bother him. He found that he didn't mind not being a formal member of the House, not when living there had made him so happy, so much more fulfilled than he had ever been. He felt light and free and at the same time a deeper, more rounded person. He didn't want to let that feeling go.

Certainly, he missed the easy sexual companionship of his life of clubs and flirtations out with Elijah, and of Andrew's House after that, but he found physical affection with all the members of Harry's House, and his regular visits to San Francisco took care of his sexual needs. Thus, what happened early in October was quite unexpected and at the same time somehow exactly what he had been waiting for.

"Orlando," a voice called softly up to him from the ground as he swung back and forth in his hammock. Orlando smiled to himself as Harry hoisted himself up into the branches, the tree gently creaking and groaning. He lowered himself next to Orlando in the hammock and they faced each other on their sides, Harry taking both of Orlando's hands and clasping his own around them at chest level. Their eyes met, and Orlando knew immediately that something had changed.

"I need to tell you," Harry said, his heart beating steadily against Orlando's pinkie fingers. "I've fallen in love with you."

Orlando inhaled sharply, staring at Harry and feeling the world cease to spin, only he and Harry and the gently swaying hammock mattering at this moment. "Oh," he whispered.

"It isn't like anything I've ever experienced," Harry murmured. "I love Karl and Marton, Dave and Craig, but I love you as if we're the only two people in the world. I love you with every fibre of my soul. It's never been this way before, and I didn't think it ever could be. I never considered the possibility."

"Harry," Orlando whispered, beaming from ear to ear. "I'm in love with you, too."

Harry smiled softly, their hands now full of yellow dust, and released Orlando's to touch his face, stroking gently with the dust on his palms only multiplying Orlando's sense of happiness and well-being. "I know," he murmured, kissing Orlando gently as Orlando's hands slid down to encircle his waist. "Please, join my House."

"Yes," Orlando replied before Harry had quite finished his sentence. "Yes, yes, I want to. You make me feel so… special."

Harry smiled and kissed him again. "You are incredibly special."

"You gave me… you gave me safety. You taught me that I could be important, that I had great gifts inside me. And I created this garden, this space, and I expanded my_self_, beyond anything I'd hoped. And all I want to do is give it back to you. I love you so much, Harry. It makes me so happy to love you."

Harry smiled brightly at his speech and kissed him more thoroughly, more passionately, so that Orlando felt like he wanted to crawl inside him. He pressed his body as close as he could, and kissed back as adamantly as he could, and then they broke into laughter together, holding one another, their lips touching and their breath intermingled.

"I love you," they said, and the leaves of the tree glimmered and held them close.

~*~

"I learned that if you hold onto something too tightly," Orlando murmured in between the kisses that had gone on for hours, "you'll start to slip. Or worse, it will squeeze you back, until you forget that you're supposed to be breathing."

Harry listened silently, their hearts beating together as Harry stroked his hair. "But if you don't hold on… if you just let go, and trust in the world to lift you up, then it will. Like this tree. Like you. I know I'm younger than the tinniest flower bud to you, but I feel that I know something important now."

Harry smiled and kissed him slowly, stroking his bare sides and making him shiver. They were naked now, but the hammock was soft and luxurious, its vines interspersed with pale pink flowers that caressed their skin like velvet. "You are amazing," Harry murmured, kissing him deeply, and shifting them subtly so that he was lying on top of Orlando in the hammock. "I want to make love to you," he murmured, and Orlando gasped, pushing his body up against Harry's with a desire he hadn't recognized until it was upon him.

"Oh, _please_," he moaned, his body shimmering with red dust.

Harry, for all his years, seemed no less enthusiastic, and he pressed against Orlando, kissing him eagerly, stroking Orlando's skin wherever he could reach. Orlando gasped and wished with every ounce of desire in him that there were some lubricant nearby, so he didn't have to stop kissing and touching Harry. And much to his surprise, when he lifted his hand from the hammock his fingers were wet.

"Oh!" he gasped, holding his hand up and staring at the slick, sweet-smelling dew that the flowers had yielded up simply because he asked for it. "I'm _magical_."

Harry burst out laughing, kissing him fervently and rubbing his fingers against Orlando's, pressing the wet substance between Orlando's legs.

"Ohh," he moaned, spreading them willingly and letting his head fall back, staring up at the canopy of leaves as Harry's fingers slowly penetrated him and mentally whispering. _Thank you thank you thank you thank you…_

"Amazing," Harry murmured against his neck. "Amazing, Orlando."

"Oh _Harry_," he groaned, clutching at Harry's back. "Please."

"Yes."

"_Please_."

"I will."

"Harry, _pl_… oh!" Orlando gasped as Harry's fingers slipped out and his cock slipped in. "Oh _God_."

"I love you," Harry murmured, catching his lips and rubbing them gently with his own.

"I love you," Orlando whispered, blinking up at him as they moved together, slowly at first and then with increasing ferocity, the hammock swinging but showing no signs of protest at their weight.

"Oh God," Harry gasped.

"Please," Orlando whispered.

"I love you," Harry murmured, kissing him frantically. "Oh, I love you, I love you…"

"I love you, I love you, I…"

"I love you, oh, Orlando, oh, please…"

"Anything."

"_Please_."

"Anything."

"I _love_ you," Harry moaned, and Orlando clutched him tightly with arms and legs as they both cried out, hovering for a moment nearly a foot in the air above the hammock as Harry's wings beat of their own accord and Orlando's gold dust fell freely to coat the hammock and the ground below, then falling back into it with a thump.

"_Oh_," Orlando gasped, breathing hard, his body slick with sweat as he clung to Harry, shivering with the after-effects of the dust and the last tremors of the orgasm itself. "Is it always like that with you?"

Harry laughed breathlessly and kissed his brow. "God, I hope so."

~*~

When Harry and Orlando walked into the kitchen, everyone else looked up from their breakfast and burst into spontaneous applause. Harry just laughed in his easy-going way and ruffled Craig's hair, but Orlando's mouth dropped open.

"How did you _know_?"

Karl tossed him a lazy grin, leaning his chair back against the cupboards and winking. "First, you look like a very satisfied tomato. Aside from that, Dave went to find you both for breakfast this morning and found a pile of clothes on the ground under the tree. Including Exhibit A, one pair blue boxer shorts, with yellow smiley faces. We did the math." Orlando only blushed more furiously, but Harry laughed again and tugged him into a chair, sitting down next to him and piling their plates with fruit and cheesy scrambled eggs and muffins.

"Don't worry, I didn't hear anything," Dave said, grinning in an uncharacteristically devilish way. "Your magic hammock must be soundproof."

"Dave!" Orlando groaned, his face in his hands. Harry laughed and pulled them away, guiding a piece of kiwi into his mouth.

"Relax, love. I've caught all four of them in perfectly uncompromising positions in the past."

Orlando giggled softly and Harry smiled adoringly at him, kissing his neck. All four of them stared, and when Orlando noticed he could practically see light bulbs going off over their heads.

"Harry," Karl asked quietly. "Are you…?"

"I've asked Orlando to join my House," Harry interrupted, smiling at them all. "He's accepted."

"Oh!" Dave exclaimed, leaning over and kissing Orlando's cheek. "That's wonderful news!"

Orlando beamed and disentangled himself from Harry long enough to hug him. "Thank you," he mumbled, grinning brightly.

"Of course we're thrilled," Dave said, letting him go so that the other three, who'd all got up from their seats at the announcement, could give their hugs and congratulations as well.

"Harry?" Orlando asked once they'd all sat back down again and returned to the meal.

"Hmm?"

"I can still keep my bedroom and my hammock, right? I really like them."

Harry laughed, the rest of them watching intently while trying not to look like they were doing so. Of course, none of them had ever stayed with Harry before on a permanent basis. "Of course you can, silly. I like your space, though you're welcome in mine."

Orlando smiled. "I like your space, too. That's good then."

"Oh," Craig said softly. "So you're…"

"I'm in love with Orlando," Harry said, linking their fingers on the breakfast table. "Which only strengthens my love for all of you, as much as he's become a part of all your lives, and you of his."

They all thought about that for a moment then nodded, satisfied. They would figure it out in time. At the moment, Orlando's only thought was that he was completely, blissfully happy.

~*~

"Can I ask you something?" Orlando asked as they walked hand-in-hand around the garden, checking on the plants. Orlando would pause to communicate silently with each one and Harry would wait patiently, stroking his back or his hair. The newest addition to the garden was a bed of red and yellow roses, growing somehow straight out of the ground without thorns of any kind, around the back of the tree under the hammock. Like the clover that had sprung up overnight from Orlando's yellow dust the night Harry had taught him grace, the roses had appeared by the evening after Orlando and Harry first made love, a byproduct of that night's dust, and they shimmered gold when the sunlight caught them, not crushing if stepped on but easily supporting a man's weight, often urging Orlando to lie in them and bask in their scent.

"Anything," Harry murmured, stopping them and kissing gently behind Orlando's ear. He blushed and smiled, turning his head and kissing Harry softly on the lips.

"It's about San Francisco. You know I'm going in a few weeks, for Gerard and Viggo's birthdays."

"I do."

"Well… you know I have sex with Sean and Viggo? I mean… I used to have sex with everyone, but I still do, with them, even though I don't have to. I like it," Orlando admitted.

"I know that," Harry agreed, smiling kindly.

"It doesn't bother you if it happens, then? Or if there's something casual in a club, or something like that? I don't want to upset you."

"You could never upset me by having sex with other people, Orlando," Harry said genuinely. "You know how much I value your ability to love, to be affectionate. That's what makes you, you."

Orlando smiled. "Okay."

"You know I'll still have sex with Dave and Craig and Karl and Marton, right?"

"Oh, of course," Orlando agreed. "I just wasn't sure, you know, because Sean and Viggo are sort of… well they're the same, you know, physical type as you, more or less, minus wings and stuff, and I'm a very different physical type than, say, Karl," he said, blushing heavily.

Harry laughed and touched his cheek. "Happy thoughts there, pet?"

"Oh God, I do not need to be thinking about you and Karl having sex," Orlando muttered. "I won't be able to stand it."

Harry grinned and kissed him hard. "You're delightful. Do you ever watch Sean and Viggo having sex?"

"Yeah," Orlando agreed, smiling. "It's gorgeous. I mean… not just because they are, but because they're… so in love. It's like me having sex with Sean versus me having sex with you. The difference would be obvious to anyone."

Harry smiled and kissed him more slowly. "Yes. It would be."

Orlando felt a little weak in the knees and Harry's hand pressed against his lower back without asking, holding him steady. "Well… I'm glad it's okay. I really do love Sean and Viggo, you know?"

"I know. I feel worlds better when you're gone, knowing that they're with you."

"What about Gerard?"

"Well… it's not exactly the same," Harry explained, walking them over to the clover and lying down with Orlando, stroking his hair. "I know that he's not Andrew. But he is a vampire. He does have those same traits. He does have some lingering loyalty to Andrew, even if he's independent now, and recognizes how much his old master fucked up. I haven't seen him with you like I saw Sean and Viggo with you. It's obvious that they'd do anything to keep you from harm, and I know that Viggo broke you out, when he just as easily could have kept you in. They're honourable men."

Orlando smiled. "They are," he agreed softly, tucking his face against Harry's chest and snuggling up to him. "I feel so safe with them. After what happened, you know, Sean goes along with us whenever we want to go clubbing. He doesn't interfere or anything, but he stands back, usually with Viggo, and watches for anything we're not into. And if Dominic or Elijah or I take someone into the loo or the alley, he's always near enough to come help if we need it."

"That's good," Harry murmured. "I like knowing that."

"You could come with me, if you wanted," Orlando offered. "To San Francisco."

"I think… not this time. This is about Gerard and Viggo. Another time, though, I will, if invited."

Orlando smiled. "Of course Gerard will invite you," he said, kissing Harry. "Anyway," he declared, grinning and rolling on top of Harry, sitting up to let him shift an awkwardly placed wing into a more comfortable position. "I want to snog you now."

"Oh do you?" Harry teased, smirking up at Orlando.

"Yeah. And you can just deal with that."

Harry laughed and grabbed his waist, and Orlando set upon his task with much concentration and not a small amount of enthusiasm.

~*~

"You are all _fantastic_," Viggo purred happily as Sean fed him a piece of cake. The birthday festivities were winding down, and he was now stretched out on the sofa across the laps of Orlando, Dominic, Elijah, and Sean, the former three all petting his front and scratching his stomach while Sean fed him cake. Giggling, Orlando spiderwalked his fingers into Viggo's lap and gave it a friendly rub as well. "Mmm," Viggo moaned. "And _you_ are _very_ fantastic," he added.

"Oh, Viggo," Gerard sighed, rolling his eyes. Billy laughed and kissed him.

"I don't blame him. Looks pretty comfortable to me," he argued.

"Oh, I'll comfortable you," Gerard growled, tickling Billy all over. He laughed and jumped about in Gerard's lap, though Gerard wouldn't let him go.

"Mercy, mercy!"

Orlando smiled and kissed Viggo's knee through his trousers. "Hey, are we going out tomorrow night?" he asked, leaning his head on Elijah's shoulder.

"Sure," Elijah agreed, kissing the top of his head. "If loverangel's okay with it?"

Orlando rolled his eyes. "He is. He _likes_ that I'm flirty, you know?"

"And have sex with other men?"

"Well… Harry's not jealous like mortals. Or vampires," Orlando added, blushing and smiling apologetically at Gerard. "He's just… you know, he's been here _forever_. And he's never fallen in love like this, not like he has with me, not… as soulmates," Orlando said in a whisper, smiling as he thought about it. "I know it's kind of funny, finding the love of your life and then letting him be with other people, but he loves that about me, and he wants me to be free and happy. That's _why_ I'm so right for him. And he trusts in this, like I do."

Elijah smiled. "I'm glad you're so happy. It's too bad that you're mortal, though," Elijah frowned. "If this is such a big deal, and it hasn't happened to Harry in the thousands and thousands and thousands of years he's been around, then what's going to happen to him when you die?"

Orlando frowned. "I… I hadn't thought about it."

"Oh, Orli," Elijah sighed, pulling him in for a cuddle. "I don't want to upset you. Talk to him about it, all right? It'll be okay."

"I… I hope so."

~*~

"Who do you like?" Sean asked as they stood on a platform against the wall, looking out over the dance floor.

"Hmm… maybe him?" Orlando suggested, pointing at a short and skinny emo boy who was dancing all alone with little jerky techno nerd moves. He had spikey gelled hair and a goatee, and was wearing a leather waistcoat with nothing underneath.

Sean laughed. "You have ridiculous taste, Orli. Go on," he suggested, giving him a little nudge. "Dominic and Elijah are all set, I think," he added, nodding at where they'd ensnared some lanky blonde.

Orlando grinned and hopped down, slinking over to the emo boy and putting on his full charm quotient, Harry's bracelet resting reassuringly on his wrist in case of trouble. "Hi," he murmured in the boy's ear, coming up behind him. "My name's Orlando."

The boy smiled as he turned around, calming his dance moves to a little alternating jerk of hips and shoulders. "Max."

"Nice to meet you, Max," Orlando replied, trying to match his movements, though he wasn't doing a particularly stellar job of it. Max laughed and looped his arms around Orlando's neck instead, moving his hips more subtly, allowing Orlando to place his hands on Max's waist and catch on.

"Where're you from?" Max asked, standing on tiptoe to get his lips to Orlando's ear.

"London. And you?"

"Chicago. Are you a normal?"

Orlando beamed, since the normals themselves didn't use that term. "No. Fairy."

"Oh, cool. I'm a nymph," Max replied with a grin, twirling a bit of Orlando's hair around his finger. "You want to learn some cool dance moves?"

Orlando giggled. "I don't know. I'm not much of a dancer beyond your basic bump and grind."

"Oh, we can work that in," Max promised with a wink. "Here, try just moving your body in opposition to mine," he suggested, shifting from side to side with his shoulders leading the movement on every other beat of the music. Orlando giggled and mimicked him, moving the opposite direction to Max, and then Max started moving back and forth, with a kind of roll of his chest. Orlando laughed and tried to move with him, but they ended up bumping into each other, and Orlando giggled and held Max close to his chest.

"I'm better at this sort of thing," he murmured, bending his head and kissing Max gently. Smiling against his lips, Max returned the kiss and took pity on Orlando, wrapping his arms around Orlando's neck again and grinding gently against him.

"Mm. I like this sort of thing, too."

"Yeah?" Orlando grinned. "D'you wanna, uh…"

"Loo," Max suggested, tugging Orlando by the hand through the crowd. Orlando giggled and followed, smiling and nodding at Sean as he slipped unobtrusively into place by the door and thanking his lucky stars when there was a handicapped stall free. "Oh, yeah," Max moaned, tugging him inside and locking the door. "Tonight is my lucky night."

Orlando giggled and pushed him up against the door, rubbing against him and kissing him hard. "Mmm, yeah."

"You're so gorgeous."

"So're you," Orlando agreed, licking his chin and pulling Max's cock out. It was hard in his hand, not too big or too small, uncircumcised. He jerked it quickly as they kissed, and Max moaned in gratitude.

"God, yeah, that's it, that's real good," Max babbled, frotting against Orlando's hip.

"Mm, beautiful."

"Oh, fuck, Orlando, I'm sorry, I'm gonna come soon…"

"No, don't be sorry, that's lovely, go on," Orlando murmured, continuing at the same pace until Max bit down on his own hand and came, his head falling back against the door. Orlando grinned and gently let go, wiping his hand with a piece of toilet paper. "Feel good?"

Max nodded and smiled, kissing him. "That was great," he agreed, dropping to his knees and undoing Orlando's fly. "This good?"

"Oh, yeah," Orlando agreed, biting his lip and fisting his hand gently in Max's hair as Max pulled him out, fitting his lips around it and sinking down easily. "Oh, yeah, yeah, that's good," Orlando moaned, closing his eyes and gently pumping his hips. "Yeah, perfect, you're good at this," he murmured encouragingly, groaning as Max sucked faster. It only took him a minute or two to come, and he smiled down at Max as he swallowed eagerly, before getting to his feet and kissing Orlando again.

"That was fantastic," Max murmured. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Orlando blushed and nodded, smiling as he stroked Max's cheek. "Yeah, sorry."

"Oh. That's too bad."

Orlando laughed, kissing him once more. "You're sweet. You'll meet someone, yeah?"

"I hope so," Max agreed, smiling as Orlando zipped up. "Get home safe, okay?"

"I will. You too." Max gave him one more kiss and left, and Orlando gave himself a minute to compose himself before he washed his hands and ducked out of the washroom, finding Sean waiting for him.

"He was cute. How was he?"

"Mm. Divine. Dance with me, handsome?"

Sean laughed and pulled Orlando into his arms. "Always my pleasure."

~*~

"Hey, silly fairy, what's getting you down?" Karl asked, coming up behind Orlando and kissing his cheek. He'd been sitting in his room a lot since he came back from San Francisco, writing, and hadn't been very sociable.

"It's nothing," Orlando mumbled. "It's just stupid."

"Nah. I don't think so," Karl said, sitting on the desk. "You're all frowny and your garden misses you. Marton told me so. Come on, you can tell me."

Orlando sighed and stared into his lap. "I think I have every right to be sad, seeing as how I've just joined a House of immortal beings and I'm the only one of you who's going to _die_ in the next forty to sixty years."

Karl frowned and gently took Orlando's face in his hands. "Who pointed that out to you?"

"Elijah."

"And have you talked to Harry about it?"

"No," Orlando replied sulkily.

"I think you should talk to Harry about it. Go on."

"Now?"

Karl smiled. "Now, Orli. He should know what's troubling you."

Orlando sighed and stood from his chair. "All right. I suppose. But it's only going to make him sad too."

"You think he hasn't thought about it?"

"I don't know."

"Orli. Go talk to him."

Orlando nodded and went up the stairs to Harry's loft, his feet feeling leaden.

"Hey," Harry murmured softy, turning from where he'd been looking out the window. He smiled and held his arms out. "Come here."

Orlando sighed and walked over, folding himself into Harry's arms and sniffing a bit.

"Why the long face, beautiful? Did something happen in San Francisco?"

"Elijah told me something," Orlando mumbled. "I was stupid not to think about it."

"What's that, love?"

"I'm gonna _die_," Orlando sighed. "And when I die you're not going to have me anymore, and if you've really never felt like this about anybody, if we're really… _soulmates_… then it's not fair that you have to lose me. My life's really short in comparison to all of yours, isn't it?"

Harry smiled and kissed him gently. "Yes. But you're not going to die, sweetheart."

"I'm not?"

"No. You don't know much about angels."

Orlando frowned. "I don't get it."

"It hasn't ever happened to me, but that doesn't mean it hasn't ever happened to an angel."

"What do you mean?"

"The angel of the south has a soulmate. So does the angel of the east. I'd hoped it might happen to me, even if I hadn't necessarily expected it now, after all these years."

"So… what does that have to do with my mortality?"

"The angel of the east? Her soulmate was of a mortal race. Born over three thousand years ago."

Orlando's eyes widened. "Does that mean…?"

"It can't happen any other way, mind you. A sorcerer can't prolong life. There are no magical devices, no intentional way to make a mortal live eternally. But a mortal does become immortal through an angel's love."

"Oh," Orlando breathed, his face breaking into a smile. "_Oh_."

Harry grinned and nodded, kissing him softly. "Sometimes the universe works in mysterious ways, pet. Often wonderful ones."

"But… that means I'll outlive Elijah?"

Harry nodded again, kissing his forehead. "I'm afraid so."

"Oh. That's sad."

"Well, you'll have many years with Elijah, won't you? Don't think about that yet."

"Okay," Orlando sighed, hugging Harry tightly. "I won't. Hold me now?"

"Nothing I would rather do."

~*~

"No, I just wanted to see if you were up to it later," a voice murmured out of Orlando's sleepy haze.

"I could be up for it now," another voice purred. Orlando blinked and forcibly roused himself from the pleasant warm space of his afternoon nap, opening his eyes halfway to catch Harry and Karl lounging in his doorway, looking at each other like a couple of juicy steaks. Harry tipped forward, and Karl caught him, kissing back hungrily. Orlando, despite his better efforts, let out an unintentional squeak.

"Darling," Karl drawled, not taking his eyes away from Harry but smiling as they stood with their foreheads pressed together, looking absolutely fuckably gorgeous, "I think the young fairy is up from his nap."

"I do think you may be correct," Harry replied, smirking and turning to catch Orlando's eye. "Hello, my love."

"Oh," Orlando whispered. "Hi."

"You can watch if you like," Karl offered. "I don't mind."

Orlando squeaked again. "_Really?_"

Harry shrugged. "Fine with me. I may be picky about whom I have sex with, but it's never been said that I'm sexually inhibited, exactly."

"_I'd_ certainly never say it," Karl exclaimed, tugging the door shut behind them.

"Oh," Orlalndo whispered. "Do you, um, do you need the bed?"

Harry smiled kindly and shook his head. "Karl's never had a problem with the wall," he said, and with that, slammed him quite forcefully against it.

"_Oh_," Orlando moaned, shoving his hand down his shorts and palming his cock. "Happy place."

Harry laughed and tossed Orlando a wink before kissing Karl again, his hands rubbing vigorously up and down Karl's body, yanking his t-shirt free of his jeans and up over Karl's head, then making similarly short work of his belt. Karl, for his part, wasn't exactly passive, though he had to get Harry's shirt, which had special holes cut in the back, up and over his folded wings. For Orlando, watching Harry without a shirt, wings spread, kissing the stuffing out of Karl while they rubbed quite unsubtly against each other was almost enough to send him to premature orgasm, so he reluctantly stilled his hand, moaning under his breath.

"Love you," Harry murmured, pushing Karl's jeans down and then his own.

"Yeah, love you," Karl groaned, turning around and pressing his hands and cheek against the wall as Harry spat in one hand and prepped him a bit roughly, biting on either side of his spine.

"Oh," Orlando whispered, staring intently. Harry turned and mouthed an "I love you" as he thrust his fingers in and out of Karl, and Orlando was only just barely lucid enough to nod frantically in reply, his hand moving on his cock again as Harry turned back to Karl.

"Like this," Harry growled, taking his fingers out after what seemed like not very much time at all and turning Karl back around to face him. Karl didn't seem in the mood to complain, though, and just grunted as Harry lifted him up and pressed inside, Karl's legs around Harry's waist.

"Oh mother of Christ," Orando whispered under his breath as Harry fucked Karl, kissing the breath out of him, both of them gasping for air even though Orlando had learned that Harry did not, strictly, have to breathe, any more than he had to eat or drink.

"Fuck," Karl moaned. "Fuck, Harry, make me come."

"You will," Harry growled, biting his neck. "You will."

"Oh, oh, fuck, Harry, fuck me, oh Jesus," Karl mumbled, his head banging back against the wall as he spurt onto Harry's stomach. Orlando completely lost it then, beating off hard and fast and closing his eyes in spite of himself as he came, moaning loudly. He didn't notice or hear or really care about Harry's orgasm, as far gone as he was, though he did notice when Harry gently lifted his wrist, pulling his hand out of his shorts and to Harry's lips.

"Oh, Jesus," Orlando whispered when he felt Harry's tongue dipping between his fingers, swirling around each one. "I am so not prepared for how erotic that is."

Harry laughed and Karl plopped down next to Orlando, kissing his forehead. "My turn for nap," he declared.

"Mm," Orlando agreed. "Group nap, yeah. That's a good plan."

~*~

"Oh my God, that is _so_ your colour!"

"Pardon?"

Dave laughed and leaned back against the wall of the big dressing room to watch as Craig fussed over Orlando and the burgundy button-down shirt he was trying on. "Don't be alarmed," he teased. "Craig may be a sorcerer, but in his spare time he's just a big queen."

"Oh hush, you," Craig said, clucking his tongue. "Or I'll tell your dirty little secrets. Orli? What do you think?"

"Hmm, I don't know," Orlando replied, examining himself in the full-length mirror and frowning. "It's very… suave."

"Oh, yeah," Craig agreed. "And sexy."

"Yeah. It's just… I'm sorry, guys. Clothes like this remind me of him."

"Oh," Craig said, frowning and setting straight to work on undoing the buttons. "You should have told me, darling. We'd never want to make you uncomfortable," he added, kissing Orlando's cheek.

"No, I know," he agreed, smiling at Craig in the mirror. "I know you wouldn't. It's just weird, you know, before I met him, I used to love sexy clothes like this, even though I couldn't afford them. But then when I was with him, in his House, I could have _everything_, all these clothes and lotions and crèmes and perfect décor… but it was just a gilded cage. It all made me happy, but it was distracting me from the freak show I was actually living in."

Craig frowned and gave Orlando a tight hug, stroking his hair. "It's okay now, though. You don't have to do, or wear, anything you don't want to."

"Yeah, I know," Orlando agreed, smiling brightly. "That's what I love so much about this, you know, living in Harry's House, being… with Harry," he explained with a little blush. "He loves me in crazy clothes, and I have this great, _normal_ bedroom, and… there's just nothing that feels hidden. No deep, dark secrets."

"Harry is open," Dave agreed, smiling as he stood and kissed Orlando's cheek. "Certainly he knows some things, secrets of the world and all that, and he's guarded with strangers, but he's always kind, and he never lies. If he wants something, he'll let you know."

"Yeah," Orlando agreed. "I just… Andrew used to put me down a lot, you know? I didn't notice it, but he'd do it in these catty ways. He'd make fun of how I dressed, and then he'd give me some gorgeous outfit so I would forget about it entirely. He looked down on my background, on where I lived, and then he gave me this suite of rooms so that I'd never want to be anywhere else. He mocked me for being flirtatious, so he got a sorcerer to create a magic fucking swimming pool that everyone could suck my fucking cock in while he watched, and he could keep my arse to his fucking self," Orlando spat, staring at the floor.

"Shh," Craig murmured, holding him gently. "Shh, darling. It's okay. That won't happen to you again."

"I was just so _stupid_, you know?" Orlando said, rubbing at his tears with his hands. "I didn't see the signs when they were right in front of my fucking face."

"Oh, darling. Here, don't do that, you'll get all blotchy," Craig murmured, pulling Orlando's hands away and kissing his tears instead. "You're safe now. Nice and safe."

~*~

"What the hell is that?" Karl exclaimed one day late in March, standing under the tree with his hands on his hips. He'd been cooped up inside pretty much all winter, working on something or another, and hadn't really ventured out of doors even once spring had shown its face. Orlando laughed, gripping the vine that held the big tractor tire dangling from the branch, and pushed his toe against the ground to swing back and forth.

"It's a tire swing, silly."

He had been a little worried, at first, when Harry helped him string the tire on a low, fat branch of his favourite tree, that the tree would reject the non-natural element in its midst. But instead it was most accepting, and green vines crawled down to wrap around the tire, sprouting pink and yellow flowers until it was impossible to see any of the rubber anymore.

"That is _the gayest_ tire swing I have ever seen in my life," Karl exclaimed. Orlando giggled, and then burst into full-on laughter when an acorn suddenly dropped onto Karl's head. "Ow!" he shouted, staring up at the tree. "You're not even an oak tree! Be consistent!"

Orlando continued to laugh, springing out of the swing and walking through the clover patch to Karl, guiding his head down and kissing the top of it. "Poor baby. Be nice to my tree, though. It never did anything to you."

"Other than dropping hard spherical objects on my head," Karl grumbled, looping his arms around Orlando's waist. "Harry wants you."

"Oh. Did he say what for?" Orlando asked, tilting his head up for a kiss.

"Sex."

"_Oh_," Orlando mumbled, blushing to the roots of his hair. "He said that?"

Karl grinned. "Nah. I just wanted to see that blush," he replied, and bolted before Orlando could react. Shaking his head, he headed for the house.

~*~

One day, much to everyone's surprise, Craig fell sick with a sort of fever. Orlando didn't think anyone immortal could _get_ sick, but Karl explained that it wasn't just any fever, but a magical one, and somehow a spell of Craig's had triggered it. Dave wanted to sit with him, but Harry wouldn't let anyone near, claiming that he was too dangerous.

"Harry?" Orlando called through the door. "Harry, I think I can help."

"Orlando, this isn't… it's not a regular sickness. I don't think you can cure it."

"No," Orlando said insistently. "No, I can. Please. Can you bring him safely to the garden?"

There was a long silence, and then Harry called back. "I want Dave and Marton back from the door, and Karl, you stand in front of them, just in case. Orlando, you go out there ahead of me. Where do you want him?"

"In our roses," Orlando said quietly, and then hurried outside, flinging himself into the bed at the base of the tree and whispering to them, begging them to heal Craig if they could. A minute later, Harry came outside with Craig held fast in his arms, sweating and shaking, cursing Harry and trying to break free. "Lay down with him," Orlando said, his heart breaking at Craig's state. It must have been some powerful magic, whatever it was to make him this way.

Harry did as Orlando bid him to and stretched out on his side, forcing Craig down as well. As soon as he was in the bed, the roses bent to meet him, practically enveloping both Harry and Craig and brushing Craig's forehead, glimmering brightly.

"Shh," Orlando murmured, stroking his forehead and lying down next to them. "Shhh."

It didn't happen quickly—they lay there for what felt like an age, though it was maybe only two hours. Gradually, Craig's resistance faded, but still he mumbled as though in a dream, his eyes falling closed, his body sweating profusely. Orlando fetched water and poured it over him, and they waited until the sunset, until Craig was limp and weak but no longer calling out, his body's temperature returning to normal.

"He needs something I can't give him," Orlando said quietly. "The roses can't do anymore. They're tired."

Harry nodded. "You've done a world for him, Orlando. I'll send for Ian."

Orlando smiled weakly and then lay back down as Harry carried Craig inside, murmuring his thanks and trying to lend the flowers a little of the energy they had spent on his friend.

~*~

"Is he going to be okay?" Orlando asked, starting out of sleep when the door to Craig and Dave's bedroom opened. He and Dave had been sitting on either side of the door, waiting like sentinels as Ian performed his magic. Alan and Harry sat downstairs, drinking tea, and Karl and Marton had finally gone to bed.

"In time," Ian replied, closing the door, looking haggard and tired like Orlando had never seen him before. "Find me a bed, dear boy. And Dave, fetch Alan. Then I would suggest you lie with him. He may not respond, but he needs you."

Orlando frowned, scurrying to his feet and leading Ian to his own bedroom. "Here, you can lie down here. Are you all right?"

Ian smiled, stretching out in the bed and closing his eyes. "I'll be fine, my dear. Healing such a powerful fever takes a lot out of a sorcerer, even one as old as myself. Tell me something—did Dave do that painting?"

Orlando nodded. "Yes. Do you like it?"

"It's perfect for you, child," Ian murmured sleepily. Alan came into the room then and Orlando slid out, giving them their privacy.

"He'll be all right," Harry murmured, bundling Orlando into his arms as the door clicked shut. "Dave is with him. Come upstairs with me now."

"I hope Craig will be more careful," Orlando murmured, walking slowly up the stairs with Harry's arm still 'round his waist. "Sorcery worries me."

"Why is that?"

"Because it's dangerous. It's bigger than any one person."

"That's true. But it's what Craig and Ian and others like them do. It's their gift."

"Ian's very old, isn't he?"

Harry nodded, shutting the bedroom door behind them and turning back the sheets. "Very."

"And Alan?"

"He's the oldest living immortal."

"Oh. Wow. Did healing Craig hurt Ian badly, do you think?"

"No one's invincible, love. It took a lot of his energy. But he'll recover, and so will Craig," Harry promised, spreading his wings across the bed once he had stripped naked and lying down on his back. "Come here, little one."

"I love you," Orlando murmured, his lips to Harry's chest.

"Always."

~*~

"Oh Orlando," Karl called in a teasing tone before Orlando could fully vacate the doorway. He'd stuck his head in to ask Marton a question about the hostas out front, but his mouth quickly shut when he saw Karl and Marton curled up in the bed, most likely naked. "We're missing the filling in our fairy cuddle sandwich. Want to volunteer?"

Orlando grinned brightly and nodded, giggling and sparkling yellow for a moment before he stepped into the room and climbed into bed with them, right up the middle, slipping under the covers when they made room. "Hi."

"Hello. How's the garden?" Marton asked, hands coming up to comb through Orlando's hair, scratching his scalp.

"Ohh," Orlando purred. "It's good. Everyone's happy. Getting plenty of water and sunshine."

"And you? Are you getting plenty of water and sunshine?" Karl teased, kissing him gently on the mouth.

"Yes," Orlando grinned. "Thank you for asking."

"We can't let your care and maintenance be neglected now, can we?" Karl replied, stroking Orlando's chest. "Are you looking forward to the summer?"

"I am. Elijah and I are talking about going to New York City so he can show me around."

"Oh? That's exciting. Doesn't seem like a place for fairies, though," Marton mused. "Even here, we have our hills."

Orlando smiled and shrugged. "I grew up in London. And there's shopping. I'm an urban fairy, though I like my garden best."

"You're an adorable fairy, is what you are," Karl replied, pretending to nibble his neck. "Have a nap with us, sunshine."

"Mm. Yes, please."

~*~

In June, Elijah and Orlando planned their trip to New York. They were both very excited about it, and could hardly stop yapping about the shows, the shops, the restaurants, the nightclubs. Sean offered to go along, but they promised to be good, wanting the trip for the two of them. They'd hardly had any time alone since they left London, and so both their Houses reluctantly let them go off on their little holiday.

Orlando flew first to San Francisco, and then they both left for New York from there. They got their first surprise, however, when a young man approached them at the gate from which their flight was to depart.

"Mr. Wood? Mr. Bloom?"

"Yes?" Elijah replied, looking confused. "Oh, man, don't tell me we've been bumped to standby."

The man gave them a bemused smile, shaking his head. "Not at all. Mr. Butler has prepared a special treat for you both."

They tossed each other a look, and then both grinned.

"A treat?" Elijah asked. "Whadyou mean? What kind of treat?"

The man smiled and gestured for them to follow him. "Please, gentlemen, just this way."

Practically bouncing with excitement, the two fairies walked along the concourse to another terminal, where the young man led them straight out onto the tarmac and to the stairs of a sleek white private jet.

"No _way_," Elijah exclaimed as they walked up the steps. "No _way_."

Orlando just giggled, looking around in awe as they stepped inside and saw the plush interior for the first time, seats all white leather and far more spacious than anything commercial. They had only just taken their seats when an airhostess approached, offering champagne and strawberries and cautioning them not to use their cellular telephones, because it would interfere with the plane's navigation system. As soon as she'd left, however, Elijah nudged Orlando and grinned, bending down and pretending to look for something in his carry on.

"What are you doing?" Orlando hissed.

"Shh! Hang on." Elijah emerged a moment later, grinning. "I had to text him to say thank you for the sleek ride, didn't I? Silly fairy."

Orlando laughed and nudged him. "Pot, meet kettle."

"Whatever, dude. This is going to be a fan-fucking-tastic flight, and you are gonna love New York."

~*~

When Orlando woke from his in-flight nap, he felt as if he'd slept a million years. He tried to grin—they were stationary, and therefore had to have landed—but he found that his facial muscles were sluggish and slow to move. A jolt of panic seized him and he tried to move his arms, but similarly could barely do so, as if he were in a thick fog. Opening his eyes, he found that he was not in the plane at all but in a dark, sparsely furnished room.

"Wha—?" he tried to croak, but his throat was hoarse. Slowly, he rolled his head to the side and found Elijah sitting in a chair, a few feet away.

"Good morning, sleeping beauties," an all-too-familiar voice said in a smirking tone. Orlando's blood ran cold with fear and he tried to jerk away, but his body betrayed him. "Hope you had a restful flight."

Next to him, Elijah was also trying to move, but Orlando could see that whatever was wrong with him also applied to Elijah. An arm slowly lifted and then fell again. They caught each other's gaze and the terror ran palpably between them.

"The more things change…" Andrew murmured, clucking his tongue. "Still just as much of a slut as ever, I see. Still stupid, still gullible, still tagging along with your little friend." Orlando wanted to protest, but his mouth was dry and wouldn't move. He concentrated on his own inner strength, on the spirit he knew was inside. He wasn't going to believe Andrew's words. They were nothing but poison.

"You don't have to do this," Orlando whispered.

"Have you ever been dropped into the ocean from the height of a mile and a half, _Orlando_?" Andrew sneered in reply. "Ever laid at the bottom of the ocean, starved and in pain, waiting for your bones to regenerate, hoping that if a shark happens by you'll have the strength to feed from it? Ever tried to get from Hong bloody Kong to London without so much as fifty p for a phonecall in your pocket? I didn't think so. If I had known that you'd gone off and found the Angel of the bloody West…"

"Don't hurt him," Orlando croaked weakly, his eyes, now focused on Andrew, beseeching. "Please."

Andrew laughed. "Oh isn't _that_ rich? Made yourself a friend, have you, slut? No… no I'm not so bloody stupid as to try to _hurt_ a bloody angel, you little cunt. Tempted to fucking hurt _you_," Andrew mused with a smirk. "See how he likes it. Wonder if the angel's fallen for your usual charms." Terror ran through Orlando's blood at that, but Andrew continued, pacing back and forth in the room. "No. I like my original plan. What's the best way to hurt a fairy?" he asked rhetorically, eyes gleaming with what was, in Orlando's opinion, pure evil.

"First," he murmured, "Dominic will come. I'll draw him out, get a message to him, let him come for his precious little bitch here." Elijah gasped quietly, and Andrew laughed. "Oh yes. You don't like that plan, do you pretty? We'll see how you like watching me drink your pretty little pet's blood, all of it, in front of your eyes. He was mine first, you know. Or have you forgotten?" Elijah just stared, his eyes bright with terror, a little whimper leaving his lips. "And then, Orlando, after he's had a few weeks to let his grief consume him, I'll give your little friend here an out, and you can watch that, too. But for you," Andrew finished dramatically, turning to leave the room. "There is no mercy."

"Elijah," Orlando whispered weakly when he was gone. "Harry will come."

Elijah frowned, straining to reach Orlando, their fingertips brushing. "He can't," Elijah croaked. "The West… he can't leave."

Orlando tried not to lose hope at that, but hope was quickly fading. He closed his eyes and tried to pray.

~*~

In the morning, the same dark-haired young man from the airport came to their room with a simple breakfast. The room was small and round, with a door and a window. Aside from the two chairs, there was a single bed and a lamp. From the window they could see a large courtyard around which the building formed a U shape. It was large, like a manor house, but it wasn't Denovair Manor.

Though the drug wore off somewhat, Orlando and Elijah still had trouble moving very quickly. When the door opened, they both tried to stand, as if to bolt, but the man just laughed as they slowly rose to their feet.

"It would be silly to try," he said, and they agreed.

"Who are you?" Orlando asked, glad at least for the use of his voice again.

"Anthony. One of the founding members of Andrew's _new_ House," he said proudly. "And we're expecting the Master of yours to send a cute little messenger any minute," he added with a smirk.

"Why do you think he'll send Dominic?" Elijah asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Simple. Your Master doesn't know where you are. The quickest way to find out is to send the shapeshifter. Enjoy your breakfast."

He left and they both looked at each other, wide-eyed. "The text," Elijah mouthed, in case they were being watched, and Orlando nodded as enthusiastically as he could with his sluggish motor skills.

"Do you think…?" he mouthed back. Elijah frowned and shrugged. It was hard to know what Gerard would do, exactly. Certainly, he had renounced Andrew's House, but it had been his job to protect Andrew for so long. Harry had said that there were lingering loyalties there. And even if he came for them, who was to say who would win in a fight, especially with the new members of Andrew's House nearby, on his home turf? The thought brought them little comfort.

~*~

"And how are the Princes in the Tower this morning?" a simpering voice greeted them, two days after their arrival. They both jumped, though their movements were still sluggish, and Andrew smirked as he closed the door. Without thinking Orlando clasped his own neck, and Andrew laughed. "Don't worry about that, poppet. Your blood is disgusting to me. I wouldn't drink that filth again if you were the last mortal on earth."

Orlando frowned, but it was far better than the alternative. "I suppose you were hoping for a speedy rescue, were you? Nice thought, I'm sure, but I'm afraid one of my beautiful boys confiscated your mobile, Elijah. Found an interesting text message there. _Thanks for the sweet ride_," Andrew sing-songed. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I haven't sent any message to him, after that little discovery. He'd suspect a trap, wouldn't he? Turncoat, perhaps, but a smart one."

Elijah frowned. "He loved you," he mumbled. "You're the one who turned."

"Loved?" Andrew laughed. "He was sworn to me. You, child, wouldn't know the difference. Doesn't matter, anyway. He doesn't know where you are, and he won't suspect that you're with me. He'll send Dominic. Only a matter of time."

Orlando and Elijah frowned at each other when Andrew left the room.

Would he? They didn't know.

~*~

On the third afternoon, Orlando and Elijah were sitting quietly, lost in their own private thoughts, when they heard a noise on the front lawn. From the window, they watched as Gerard snapped some fair-haired boy's neck. Orlando hissed in pain, but at the same time his heart soared. _Gerard!_

At the same moment there was a commotion in the hallway and one of Andrew's boys, an immortal, rushed in to guard Orlando and Elijah. He seemed just as interested, however, in what was going on down on the lawn, and stood between them, a hand on each arm, watching intently.

"Christ," the boy whispered, watching Gerard fight off two more members of Andrew's House.

"Andrew's going to kill him," Orlando murmured, his heart filling with dread.

"Don't you know anything?" the boy said, though quietly, his tone not particularly sharp. If anything, he sounded worried.

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you think Gerard was his bodyguard? He's an older, stronger vampire."

"He is?"

"Well don't sound so pleased about it."

Despite the reassurance, Orlando's lip remained firmly between his teeth.

"Well this is an unpleasant surprise," a voice boomed from the lawn, Andrew appearing from the shadows. "Judas comes to confront the master he betrayed."

"Don't flatter yourself," Gerard replied, his authoritative voice audible through the thin glass panes. "You're far from Jesus Christ."

"You swore an _oath_, Gerard. Do I need to remind you what kind of vampire it makes you to have broken it?"

"Makes him a better _human_," Elijah muttered, watching as Gerard charged Andrew into the nearest wall of the house. Under the force of the two vampires, a crack appeared in the stone, and Andrew rebounded, flinging Gerard back across the lawn.

"You're _nothing_!" Andrew shouted, but it was obvious to Orlando that his rage was making him clumsy in the physical fight, his movements imprecise and volatile. He flung himself at Gerard, fangs aiming for the other vampire's neck, but he never could get a sufficient grip, tiring himself out with the effort. After what seemed like an age of back-and-forth, Andrew hurling insults, Gerard biding his time, Gerard finally struck the killing blow, throwing Andrew so hard against the building that they could feel its foundations shake. Andrew hit the ground, stunned, and Gerard was there immediately, sinking his fangs into Andrew's neck, creating a wound and then squeezing it hard. He didn't drink, Orlando noticed, turning away from the window as Gerard bled his one-time master dry. The immortal fled, and Orlando saw no reason to stop him, only turning to Elijah in amazement.

"It's over?" he whispered, hopeful.

"I think it is," Elijah agreed, wrapping his arms around Orlando and squeezing hard. "Fuck."

A few minutes later, there was a sound at the door, and a crash as it fell from its hinges, Gerard stepping over it and bundling them both to his chest. "Jesus Christ. Thank God you're safe. Did he hurt you? Drink from you?"

"Drugs," Elijah mumbled. "To make us slow. That's all. He wouldn't drink."

"He said my blood is disgusting," Orlando mumbled into Gerard's neck.

"Nonsense. Your blood is delicious."

"Oh. Do you, um…. need some?"

Gerard smiled. "I need rest, and I'll take some of Elijah's. That will be enough. Then I'm taking you both home."

"How did you know?" Elijah asked. "Not to send Dominic?"

"I had a bad feeling, when I saw your text. The two of you don't have many enemies."

"And how did you find us, without him?"

Gerard smiled at that. "The old fashioned way. I went to the airport, looked into private jets leaving the country, threatened a few customs officials." Elijah snorted. "I knew he wasn't in the West, and I knew that if he could, if he was powerful enough again to kidnap the two of you in a private jet, he must be back in England. It was easy enough to figure out that I was correct, and work the magical networks from there to find the new house. But it took a few days to figure all that out, and Harry can't leave his own jurisdiction so I had to go alone."

"Couldn't you have brought someone with you?" Orlando asked, puzzled.

"Yes, but I wouldn't risk bringing someone else. I know Andrew, and I knew that I was stronger. His desire for revenge clouds everything, and this was our battle to fight. I'm only sorry that you nearly ended up as collateral damage."

"It's all right," Orlando said, gently, kissing him. "We're safe now."

"Yes. And if it's up to me, we'll keep it that way."

~*~

"Orlando!"

"Oh, fuck, Harry, I love you so much…"

"…never want to let you out of my sight again," Harry mumbled into Orlando's hair, holding him tightly, tears falling onto Orlando's shoulder. "It's irrational and a bad idea, but I almost lost you, and…"

"Shh, shh. No one else would do that to me," Orlando murmured, kissing Harry's chest through his shirt. "I'm safe now. We're safe."

"Are you sure you're not hurt?"

"I'm sure. I'm a little sluggish," Orlando admitted. "From the drugs. I haven't had any dust since we left California. Can we lie down together in my roses, please?"

"Of course," Harry promised. "I've been… keeping your garden company for you."

Orlando smiled. "Did it help?"

Harry shrugged. "Nothing could've made me feel all right with you in danger, Orlando. But I could rest a little, in the clover."

Orlando frowned and kissed his forehead. "You need healing as much as I do, then," he declared. "Just one second." Turning to Gerard, standing back a little in the front yard with Elijah, he stepped forward to give them both a hug. "If you head in, Craig'll make you tea. Is Dominic coming?"

"You bet your arse," the shapeshifter replied, his arms flung around Elijah before Orlando could blink. Orlando smiled and led Harry to their roses by the hand. It was hard to say if everything could ever be put quite the same again, but same or not, it certainly felt _right_.


End file.
